


the time you have wasted for your rose

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming Out, Kissing, Musicals, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pygmalion, accidental misgendering, the little prince references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m not a boy.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You’re a… girl?” he tries, feeling like he has the wrong answer to a test he didn’t know he was being given.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, I’m not a girl, either.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Is this a riddle, because I’m shit at riddles to be honest.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Louis and Zayn work together on a school play and learn that not everyone is as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the time you have wasted for your rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelbucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelbucky/gifts).



> General notes that need to be said: this is not a reflection of the 'right' or 'wrong' way to be nonbinary. This does not reflect my experiences on the spectrum. This is a fictional piece meant to reflect one instance of one fictional character coming out to someone they trust; they are already out to a select number of other people. This is not intended to cause offense to anyone on the spectrum that does not identify this way or is not this open/near cavalier about coming out. It is not easy for everyone. 
> 
> Also: **Louis is misgendered for most of this until xe comes out to Zayn**. As it was told from Zayn's POV, I could find no other way to relay how Zayn perceived the world. Until many people meet someone on the spectrum, they don't always understand the concept that there is more than just male or female. Even Zayn, who has an amab sister in the story, does not originally understand that someone can be neither male nor female. Once Zayn learns, he corrects his thinking and interpretation of the world around him.
> 
> With that being said: this is really just a fluffy piece of fluff. There is little conflict to be found here. Title from and excessive quoting of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, whose work has served as inspiration for many of my stories. I have my own well-worn copy on my bedside dresser at all times. Credit where credit is due, and all that.

_"If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are abloom with flowers...”_

**― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince**

 

It isn’t suspicious when his locker sticks: there’s nothing new there. What catches Zayn’s eye, though, is what falls out once he’s finally managed to pry the stubborn locker open.

He shifts the weight of his backpack where it hangs heavy on his shoulders, feeling it settle again as he stoops to pick up what has fallen. Curiously, he thumbs open the small, white envelope. It’s unmarked on the outside, but a card falls out when he tips it upside down and shakes it twice. The card is white as well, black letters in narrow cursive filling the space. It looks like the fancy name cards his auntie had at her wedding, and it takes him a moment to figure out what it says.

‘ _if anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists_ ’ is scrawled from edge to edge, the small handwriting somehow looking crammed in the available space. Zayn feels his brows furrow as he re-reads the message, unfamiliar with the words. He snorts to himself a second later, slipping the card back into its envelope and tossing it in the corner of his locker.

“Zee!” he hears from his left. Without looking, he already knows it’s Niall, and he ignores his best friend as he simultaneously hurries to finish gathering his books. “Hey, don’t be like that,” Niall groans, coming to a stop at Zayn’s elbow. “I didn’t mean for you to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, I did,” Zayn says, finally turning to glare at him. “I got caught and blamed for the entire mess you and your stupid teammates made in the amphitheater.”

Niall scoffs, eyes bright. “There’s no way you could have done all that by yourself.”

“They know that,” Zayn shrugs, fingers itching for a cigarette or a pen, he isn’t sure which. He hates being still, needs to always be doing something with his hands especially. It’s why he’s never given up on art, though Doniya says he’s pants at it and Safaa can never guess what he’s drawing for her. He’s promised his mum he’d stop smoking (“for real this time, swear”) so he knows he can’t sneak behind the gym with Ant or Danny. In the meantime, until he can start doodling on the edge of his notebook in Tiltrano’s English class, he spies the mystery card again and grabs for it to have something to focus his nervous energy on. He bends the corner with the tip of his pointer finger as he shuts his locker up, remembering to click the lock.

Niall follows him as he heads to Tiltrano’s class down the next hallway. “That’s not cool that you’re getting the blame for the entire thing then. What’s that?”

“Huh?” Zayn asks, playing dumb. At Niall’s unimpressed look, he decides to evade the question entirely and try to distract him. “Oh yeah, sucks I got the blame. Brewster says I’ve got to help the drama club with their spring musical to make up for it.”

Like a charm, Niall is distracted by this news. “The musical? You gonna play Danny in _Grease_?”

Zayn laughs louder than he means to, startling a group near them. He does a double-take when one person meets his eye when he glances over, a boy with big blue eyes and soft-looking brown hair. The kid is in a couple of Zayn’s classes. He’s usually loud, but it still takes him a moment for Zayn to remember his name. He nods a bit in acknowledgment, anyway, noting the way the kid’s cheeks look a bit pink as he turns away towards the girl next to him.

“Nah, probably they’re gonna have me do set design or something,” he says, dragging his eyes away from the boy and looking to Niall again, who’s beautifully oblivious to whatever the hell has just happened.

Niall laughs, a bit unkindly. “Not when they see how terrible you are at drawing real stuff. Maybe if the backdrop needs to be some sick comic book character stuff: you’re good when it comes to that shit.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and breaks away from him to head into his classroom. “Did I ever tell you what a great friend you are?” he calls out over his shoulder, Niall’s response lost in the din from the hallway and the sudden quiet as he enters class. He takes his usual seat, not too close to the front but not in the very back row because he knows that’s just asking for teachers to try and trip him up by asking him questions. It isn’t that he doesn’t know the material; he does. He’s just never been comfortable speaking in front of other students. They’ve always made fun of his accent or the way he mumbles his words sometimes, and until he was old enough to fit into his father’s old leather jacket and start smoking to give himself a ‘mysterious’ air, he dealt with others best by not dealing with them at all.

Then he took up boxing to get fit and no one has really messed with him much since.

Still, old habits die hard and he tends to try and be as inconspicuous as possible. The bell is just about to ring with the lad from the hallway comes in, settling into his seat in the very front. It strikes Zayn suddenly what his name is, and he feels a bit bad, but Louis’ just as mysterious as Zayn is and Zayn doesn’t know if they’ve ever really had a conversation. Louis glances over his shoulder, looking right at Zayn, and Zayn looks away quickly as if he hadn’t been staring.

There’s a flush on his own cheeks and he tries to sneak a look again. Louis isn’t paying him any attention, chatting with a girl next to him. He seems reserved, somehow, and Zayn idly watches them until he catches himself. He’s always been a bit bad with staring, and he’s always been fascinated with people like Louis; people who seem loud and confident ninety percent of the time, though Zayn knows he can see the reserve shell they hide in when they think no one is watching.

He doesn’t want to think about it any longer, and he starts doodling on the envelope he found in his locker. He’s making a chain-link around the edges when Tiltrano comes in the room in a flurry of clicking heels and rustling papers. He looks up as she brings the class to order, glancing at Louis almost on instinct. Louis’ staring at the envelope in Zayn’s hand, two bright pink spots high on his cheeks until he catches Zayn looking and turns so fast his chair squeaks on the floor.

It’s definitely a strange exchange, Zayn notes, but he tucks the envelope away without another thought and settles back to listen to his classmates completely miss the point of their current reading. Honestly, if he hears one more person gush about how they think _Pygmalion_ is a romance, he might actually walk out of class.

~*~

After school, Zayn deposits his book bag in his locker and makes his way to the drama teacher’s classroom, as previously instructed. He’s a bit early, having dashed out of his psych class as quickly as he could. He takes a seat in front of the teacher’s desk, slouching back and fiddling with the zip of his hoodie idly as he waits.

The door opens quickly, banging against the wall, and Zayn jumps in surprise.

As he turns around, he hears a voice say, “Oh, shit, sorry,” just as his gaze meets Louis’ blue, blue eyes.

“Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Zayn feels a bit lame when all he can think to do is shrug and say, “Well, I am.” He winces after, hoping it doesn’t come across as snappish or rude. Thankfully, Louis doesn’t seem to notice, already coming into the room and walking towards the teacher’s desk. He ruffles among the stacks of paper for a bit, clearly looking for something, and Zayn licks his lips distractedly, casting around for something to say. “Can I help?” he ends up with.

Almost as if he’d forgotten Zayn was in the room, Louis looks up suddenly. “Oh, no thanks. I’m just looking for the keys for the storage room.”

Zayn nods once to show he’s heard. He sits up a bit straighter, feeling self-conscious, and resumes fiddling with his zipper. He glances over his shoulder at the open door, wondering when the teacher is going to come in, when Louis speaks up again.

“Are you the one who trashed the amphitheater?”

“No,” Zayn answers honestly, facing him again.

It isn’t as if Zayn expected Louis to not believe him, necessarily, but he’s surprised when Louis nods as if he understands. “I saw the people who did it. They’re your friends, yeah?”

“Something like that.”

“I think you taking the fall for it is pretty dumb, but I know Liam would have gotten his third strike and then he wouldn’t be able to be on the team anymore. Soccer means a lot to him.”

“It doesn’t mean a lot to you?” Louis shrugs and Zayn frowns. “But you’re really good.” His words make Louis flush and he realizes how infatuated he sounds. He instantly wants to play it off differently or even take it back, but he bites his lip against it. He settles, instead, with “Anyway,” and lets it trail off.

“Anyway,” Louis repeats, finding the keys and letting them jingle in his hand, “I think it’s nice, what you did.”

“Thanks, man.”

A strange look crosses Louis’ face for a split second, but it’s gone before Zayn can really gauge it. He thinks Louis looks a bit sad, though, and it makes something twist unpleasantly in his stomach for some reason he doesn’t want to investigate. Louis twists the keys as he walks to the door, stopping at the last second. “If you’re here to see Ms. Sholty, she never really comes to her classroom. You can come with me, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, okay,” Zayn says, jumping at the chance to get out of his chair. He lets Louis hold the door open for him and then falls into step next to the lad. The silence is particularly dreadful, and Zayn’s bottom lip is chapped, making him lick out against it continuously. He realizes he probably looks like a dork, and he bites down on the bruised skin instead.

“Did Ms. Sholty tell you what you were going to be doing?” Louis asks when they’re steps away from the amphitheater.

“Not really, I haven’t talked to her yet. The principal just told me I’d be helping out as needed.”

“You’re a bit scrawny to help with the set.”

Zayn looks at him, eyes wide in offense until he realizes Louis’ joking, the smirk on his face a dead tell. “’M as strong as you,” he replies, feeling his own mouth twist into a grin that he hopes doesn’t look as crazed as it feels.

Louis’ laugh is sharp and loud. “Doubt that.”

“Want me to prove it?” Zayn plays along.

“What? Are we gonna arm wrestle?”

“Depends on how badly you want to lose. You think playing soccer is gonna help you? Don’t use your legs in arm wrestling.”

“Guess the rumors about you being a genius are true,” Louis quips, ducking into the amphitheater and crossing through the rows and aisles to get backstage. “What are you going to come up with next: leg wrestling?”

“Isn’t that just sex?” a new voice asks, slow and deep. Louis and Zayn both turn to glance to their right, where the source is standing against the wall, a wide smile on his face deep enough to show off an impressive dimple.

“Harry,” Louis admonishes, his back to Zayn. Harry’s grin doesn’t die and Louis crosses over to him, tucking himself against his side for a brief hug. Zayn finds himself wondering if the two of them are together, and he doesn’t like the way he’s lingering on the thoughts of Louis’ private life. He can’t really help it, though, and he feels like an idiot as he watches them exchange a few, brief words in a low murmur.

“Why did you trash this place?” Harry asks suddenly, recapturing Zayn’s attention from where he had been lost in his own thoughts.

“Hazza, no,” Louis says, shooting Zayn an apologetic look.

“What? I spent the better part of an hour helping clean up. I can’t ask ‘why’?”

“He didn’t do it, though.”

“Why’d he say he did, then?”

“That’s not really any of our business.”

“I didn’t trash the place,” Zayn cuts in. Their eyes both shift to meet his, and he looks between their faces. “I already told Lou. I did it because I was the one who got caught in here after the mess had been made and I’m not going to rat out my friends.”

Harry uses a moment to think that over, taking longer than Louis had before he finally nods. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

Shrugging, Harry pushes off from the wall and starts walking, jogging up the steps at sidestage and heading back behind through the wings with Louis and Zayn in tow. “If Louis trusts you, then I can, too.”

Zayn looks around them, scenery designs from previous productions lining the walls. There’s a group of students gathered in the back, and they head there while Zayn teases the hem of his shirt from nerves. He slips in beside Louis, a clothes rack full of garment bags to his left as Ms. Sholty calls the meeting in.

“Thanks for joining us, everyone,” she says. “Last meeting, we went over the approved musicals and overwhelmingly voted for My Fair Lady. In the interest of keeping the casting fair, we’ll be working on an alternate title along with a modern concept.” Louis raises his hand but Ms. Sholty rolls her eyes. “We won’t be using anything from a Lindsay Lohan movie.”

The group laughs and Louis beams.

“Nothing against Ms. Lohan, of course, but we are looking to show our own creative talents. Zayn-“

Zayn startles, not having expected to be addressed. “Yes, m’am?”

“Please, call me Darla when it’s about the play. I know you’re new to the theater world, but we’d love to hear your input. Any ideas you have, just shout them out. We all take creativity seriously. Even bad ideas can lead to good ones with enough time and effort.”

“Sounds good,” he says, smiling a bit. He doesn’t care for the way they’re all turned to face him, but they turn back when Darla begins speaking again and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“You okay?” Louis asks. Zayn nods.

~*~

“You want me to _what_?”

Zayn isn’t exactly proud of the way his voice breaks on the last word, but he’s honestly sure he’s misunderstood Darla. She’s sitting behind her desk, shuffling papers into several different piles in a seemingly random order. There’s no way she meant-

“I want you to audition for the musical. I think you’d make a great Freddy to Louis’ Eliza.”

“I can’t play Freddy, I’m not- wait, _Louis_ is going to be Eliza?”

“Well, I can’t say officially one way or another, but Louis is very strong and I can’t see many going for the lead anyway. Of course, we don’t even know if Eliza’s name will remain Eliza, but I have a feeling Louis will bring the role to life.” Darla makes eye contact with him, and something his stance must annoy her because her eyebrows raise and she asks, “Is that a problem?”

If Zayn didn’t know her reputation for being the nicest teacher in the entire school, he’d be petrified by the icy glint in her eyes when she stands up and levels him a look. He does take a half-step back, eyes wide. “Of course it isn’t.” When Ms. Sholty doesn’t immediately back down, Zayn tries again. “I mean it, I wouldn’t care, no matter. I think I-“

“ _I_ think,” she interrupted, “that you need to speak with Louis at the earliest convenience. I won’t talk again about the casting until you can come to me with a better understanding of the situation.”

Zayn feels dizzy from the personality shift and he nods before turning and leaving her office.

As if the afternoon couldn’t get any weirder, Louis is bumming around in the hallway when he takes the first corner, rolling a cigarette around his fingers idly. “Hey,” he says, pushing off from the wall. “Did Darla say anything about me?”

Zayn has no idea what is happening. “How’d you know?”

Zayn watches as Louis visibly steels himself, pulling himself to his full height and broadening his shoulders. As he’s got maybe ten pounds on Zayn altogether, most of it concentrated in his bum, Zayn isn’t particularly intimidated but, then again, he doesn’t know if he is supposed to be.

“I’m not a boy.”

Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, Zayn doesn’t look away from Louis. “Come again?”

“I’m not a boy.”

A repetition doesn’t clue anything in for Zayn. “You’re a… girl?” he tries, feeling like he has the wrong answer to a test he didn’t know he was being given.

“No, I’m not a girl, either.”

“Is this a riddle, because I’m shit at riddles to be honest.”

Louis huffs and stomps his foot a bit, as if _Zayn_ is being the difficult one, and Zayn just gapes at him. “I was born into a boy’s body but I don’t identify as being a boy. I don’t really feel like a boy.”

“So then you feel like a girl?” Zayn tries again, thinking he maybe worded it incorrectly the first time. At the murderous look on Louis’ face only intensifies, Zayn holds his hands up to stop an outburst. “Okay, I’m missing something. I can acknowledge that. My youngest sister is trans; she was assigned male at birth but has identified as a female since she could speak. I understand the concept of not identifying as the gender you were assigned. I just need more words to understand your situation.”

“It’s not my job to make you understand,” Louis says, but his shoulders visibly relax and his expression softens.

“That’s fair,” Zayn admits. “Is there a word you associate with? A pronoun you use?”

“I didn’t actually expect you to respond like this.”

“Again: that’s fair,” Zayn repeats himself. “I don’t know what it must feel like to have to announce your identity at every turn. My sister began living as a girl almost right away; there’s very little need to explain to friends or everyday acquaintances.”

“I don’t particularly love labels, but I’m nonbinary. Agender, I suppose. Although, I sometimes feel more ‘boy-ish’ as my mom calls it. Mostly, I don’t really associate with one gender or another. Darla knows, she’s a friend of my parents’, and she helps me a bit.”

“By letting your craft your own parts in the plays,” Zayn says, the pieces slotting together. “That way, no one can say you’re a boy playing a girl’s part, and you can tell them you’re agender playing an agender role if you feel comfortable.”

Louis flushes but nods. “It’s a bit stupid.”

“I think it’s great,” Zayn admits. “People can’t always be trusted to respond correctly to people who don’t fit in their ‘norm’.” He watches Louis smile at him and knows he’s completely, totally screwed.

~*~

The next morning, Zayn’s stubborn and eternally stuck locker gives way to another white envelope, this time the words ‘ _what makes the desert beautiful […] is that somewhere it hides a well’_ scribbled in the same messy handwriting. Zayn furrows his brows, mouthing the words silently to himself. He thinks it’s a code, but he doesn’t understand why someone is talking to him about deserts and wells.

He looks around but no one in the hall seems to be paying him any mind. He slips the envelope and card into his bag, grabbing his books and closing his locker again. The phrase repeats in his mind until he gets to English and slips into a seat next to Louis with a smile. Then, _Pygmalion_ and his slight, slight crush drown out the note and he spends the rest of the day thinking how he can perfect this role for Louis. Zayn wants to make it as unique as he can, to reflect well on the most interestingly unique person Zayn knows.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, Zayn helps the drama club perfect their modernized retelling of _Pygmalion_ , taking _My Fair Lady_ and turning it on its head, completely. While he doesn’t get a lead- Darla having decided soundly that he wasn’t really a match for Louis after all- Zayn does get to help Louis hone xyr part. They have fun perfecting the balance between male and female stereotypes; Louis chooses to carry xemself in a more feminine manner by simpering and flirting through most of the lines, though xe will be wearing suits and other masculine-coded clothing for the performance.

All the while, Zayn’s growing a collection of mysterious notes. He’d caved after the third- ‘one loves the sunset when one is so sad’- and finally looked it up online, realizing they were all quotes from _The Little Prince_. He doesn’t think he’s ever ready the story, though he’s familiar enough with the concept.

He drags Niall and Liam to every used bookstore in town one afternoon, piling into Liam’s car and exploring every nook and cranny until Niall finally emerges from a dusty corner, a faded copy clutched tight in his hand.

“Are you going to explain why you needed _this_ book?” Liam asks.

“Are you going to explain why you trashed the amphitheater?” Zayn shoots back.

“It was pretty much just us being really, really stupid,” Liam answers right away. “But your point is made: you have your book, and your secret, and you’ll share if you like.”

~*~

A few days before opening night, Zayn and Louis are sharing a cigarette in Louis’ room. Xyr parents are out of town with xyr siblings and Zayn has a bag packed to stay the night. They’re arguing over Louis’ role.

“I don’t think we can change the name back to Eliza,” Zayn says, trying to be fair.

“It isn’t obvious enough that it’s _My Fair Lady_ ,” Louis argues right back. “We need to make it more obvious.”

“Harry’s already playing ‘Professor Higgins’, why don’t you think that will be enough?”

“I just want it to, like, _slap_ them in the face. I’m Eliza Doolittle. I don’t have to be a girl to play an Eliza.”

“I agree with you,” Zayn says, choosing his next words carefully. For all that Louis has been a saint about forgiving Zayn’s slipups if he uses masculine pronouns or other coded language, Zayn always tries to be considerate and careful of his words. “I don’t mind the idea of you playing an Eliza. Hell, Lou, you could play Eliza in a dress and petticoats and I wouldn’t blink an eye. At this point, though, I don’t know if the other actors will be able to change the script completely. I know,” he cuts xem off, knowing xyr pride in the drama club runs deep. “I know they’re brilliant, and they could call you Eliza for the main dialogues. But the little ad-libbing and throwaway lines that refer to you as ‘Riles’ or ‘Riley’ will be hard to correct over something that isn’t going to really catch the audiences attention. If anything, they would _expect_ your name to be Eliza. If you turn it on their head and make them think about Riley’s story, they might realize their gendering mistakes.”

“You think some boys will get Barbies this year if I play Eliza as a ‘Riley’?”

“I’ll buy them all Barbies myself.”

Louis grins and hides xyr face in xyr shoulder briefly, the familiar flush of pink tinting and showing xyr cheekbones in a stark contrast.

“Hey, Lou. Can I ask you a ‘Stupid Question’?” Zayn uses air quotes, a sign he and Louis have come up with to indicate that Zayn may be about to ask a potentially rude question that is well-meant.

“Of course,” Louis says, laying xyr head on Zayn’s lap.

“If I- say a boy, like me. Well.”

“Spit it out, Zee.”

“If I kiss you, or wanted to kiss you,” Zayn begins in a rush. “Am I kissing a boy or… I don’t know?”

Louis’ eyes are open wide, sharp blue locked on Zayn’s gaze. “You’d be kissing a ‘Louis’,” xe says. Zayn thinks he can see xyr stomach and chest, xyr breathing having increased a bit.

“But what does that make me? Am I gay?”

“It makes you someone who wants to kiss a ‘Louis’.” Xe sits up. “Are you saying- you’re saying you want to kiss me, yeah?”

Zayn nods, smiling bright. “If that’s okay.”

“If that’s oh-“ Louis begins, before practically launching xemself at Zayn and wrapping arms around his neck. Xe brings their mouths close together, though their lips are not yet touching. “That’s really, very okay,” Louis decides.

The kiss, when it finally happens, isn’t much different from the kisses Zayn has shared with his ex or the girl he was dared to kiss years ago at his first boy/girl party. Louis’ lips are a bit rough, chapped like Zayn’s are, and xyr technique is nothing like the movies Zayn has seen.

It’s also better, because Louis is wriggly and restless like usual, a buzz of energy coming from xyr body as their lips press together again and again. Zayn licks out a bit in a tease, pulling back when Louis keeps xyr lips closed adamantly.

“Not until you take me on a proper date, Malik,” xe warns, grinning when xe pulls back.

“I can probably arrange that,” Zayn teases.

They keep their hands (mostly) to themselves for the rest of the night, trading another couple kisses before they slip into bed and curl up next to each other. Right before Louis reaches up to turn off xyr lamp, Zayn thinks he sees a worn copy of _Le Petit Prince_ on Louis’ bookshelf.

He smiles to himself; of course his crush-slash-maybe new enbyfriend has the version in French. It sounds like xem, all the way.

~*~

The notes in his locker end after that, and Zayn hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed them until they were gone. It’s understandable though; if it really is Louis- and Zayn is near one hundred percent sure- then there isn’t any time. Louis is busy with rehearsals every second xe isn’t in school. Zayn is usually on standby to help touch up paint on scenery designs, finish last-minute sewing on costumes, and general stage direction changes, but they still don’t manage anytime for more than the briefest of greetings.

When opening night finally comes, Zayn’s backstage. He helps with costume changes and always has drinks ready for the actors when they get a break off-stage for a moment. It’s a rush, being so close to the action without having to be a focal part of it, and Zayn thinks he could actually get used to it.

Louis shines as Riley Doolittle, a down-on-xyr-luck nobody who gets roped into taking etiquette classes with Harry’s kind-of-a-jerk Mr. Higgins. It’s only Riley’s suitor, a small role played by Louis’ friend Eleanor, who convinces xem to leave Mr. Higgins’ narrow-minded world-view behind. Louis has the majority of the singing numbers, belting them out perfectly in Zayn’s biased opinion.

When the show is over and the audience’s clapping has died down, Zayn finds Louis backstage in a makeshift dressing area, four other actors crowded in around xem. They are all removing stage makeup and slipping back into street clothes, and Zayn pulls Louis aside for a minute.

“I have something for you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention.

Louis’ blue eyes are sparkling, both from the adrenaline of the show and the promise of a present. “What is it?” xe asks.

“Open it and find out,” Zayn says with a grin and a quick peck on the cheek.

Louis’ hands are shaking from xyr high a bit as xe rips off the wrapping paper and opens the small, flat velvet box. Inside is a simple silver chain with a pendant on it, the words ‘what is essential is invisible to the eye’ carved in thin letting on a coin.

“Zayn,” xe says, xyr finger tracing the wording. “How long have you known?”

“Just a couple of days,” Zayn promises. “I saw your book and assumed, well, I hoped it had been you the whole time. It was, yes?” He just needs to hear it.

“Yes,” xe says, grinning up at him. “It’s my favorite book ever since I was a child; no other story made me realize I could be whoever I wanted to be without sacrificing anything. The little prince finds his way back to his rose.”

Zayn bites back the words, ‘I found my way back to my rose’ because he knows exactly how cheesy it is and he won’t give Louis the satisfaction. Something in his face must give him away, though, because xe laughs louder and presses a strong kiss to Zayn’s lips.

“I have to go find my parents,” xe says. “We’re going out to dinner to celebrate. Will you come with? Meet them as my… boyfriend, or whatever.”

Zayn smiles and kisses xem one more time. “Of course I will.”

 

_“But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....”_

**― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
